


Electric, Magnetic, Fiery (working title)

by VioletEnigma



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Qunari, Qunari Culture and Customs, Saarebas, Tal-Vashoth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:34:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22977718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletEnigma/pseuds/VioletEnigma
Summary: Raised among the Qun, Pherah Adaar now faces a life of being hunted and hated as an unchained Saarebas. Her continued freedom is the only thing that matters more than her life as a mercenary in the Valo-Kas. The scars around her mouth a constant reminder of the cost of being caught, knowing it will mean her death.Can she hope to maintain that freedom when a member of the Ben-Hassrath, the very arm of the Qun sent to hunt her, asks to be a part of the Inquisition? Will The Iron Bull follow the directive of the Qun and end the life of this Saarebas?
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When I was looking through mods before I started my play through of Inquisition with a Qunari female mage, I stumbled across a mod that added in Saarebas scars (Scars of the Saarebas by Punahedan) and was immediately struck with the visceral image and I envisioned this for her backstory. It’s slightly AU, but I think it makes for an extremely compelling story. Please let me know what you think. If there’s interest, I may continue the story, I have no idea if anything like this has been done before either, so I hope I’m not stepping on any toes…
> 
> Disclaimer: EA/Bioware owns Dragon Age, I merely doggie paddle in their expansive pool.

**Introduction**

_ Fear: overwhelming, powerful. Debilitating. She was frozen with it. _

_ Lightning crackled between her fingers as she stood over the burned husk of her sparring partner. Her friend. She had only wanted to win. She hadn’t meant to hurt. To kill. Instinct had guided her. She wasn’t supposed to be a mage. She was trained, bred, vetted, on her way to the priesthood to teach children. She was thirteen, magic developed sooner... Didn’t it?  _

_ Saarebas.  _

_ Her new role. _

_ Pain. Sharp. Repeating. A needle and thread sewing her lips shut. Some slack given to learn and eat. She would lose her tongue if she continued to fight her leash and trainer. Too much spirit. A danger to the other Saarebas. _

_ Garbled words, lightning strikes against her directed target. Attack. Defend. Her life is unimportant now compared to that of her Arvaraad. _

_ Silent but for the rattling of her chains in the breeze. Compelled into silence and stillness by her Arvaraad’s rod. _

_ Breathing harshly against the quiet of the night. The other Saarebas sleeping, closely packed together for body heat against the cold nights. Unable to speak, collar and chain making it difficult to sleep. Fitfully pressed against other bodies, their warmth a bane and blessing. _

_ Waking to a face, ashen grey, and familiar coming to her in the dead of night, stark white hair in little braided rows that seemed to glow in the dark with the soft tinkle of the metal and wooden beads worked into the ends. Her Tama, a face she had not seen since being taken away from the priesthood to harness her magic, to learn her place, her new role in her Karataam. _

_ Running. Fear tangled with excitement. Don't let them catch us, don't let them see us. Can’t stop running, never stop. _

_ A boat.  _

_ Salvation in a kind first mate with dusky skin, raven hair and yellow eyes. Huddled with her Tama, hidden below decks until they were far out to sea. _

_ Saarebas no more. _

_ Freedom, exquisite and refreshing. The thread was cut, her voice free once more. _

_ Afraid of being caught, but free.  _

_ “I’ll call you Pherah, it means happiness in a tongue outside the Qun.” Her old Tamassran spoke from behind her using halting common, the newly named Pherah could hear the shared smile in her voice. Her Tama’s pride buoyed her.  _

_ Her Tama. Her liberator. Now her mother. _

_ Tal-Vashoth. Her new role. _

_ It is worth it. _

  
  


**Chapter 1**

Pherah woke with a start, Shokrakar’s leg and arm warm but heavy across her body. The faint light hitting the bed barely showed her bed mate’s features, and she knew dawn was not yet here. She tried to extract herself from the bed, but the mercenary leader stirred when Pherah moved. A life as a merc left most as jittery, light sleepers. Though their band was unlike other Tal-Vashoth, they still kept a wary eye open for possible Qunari and their viddathari converts.

“Adaar,” Shokrakar’s voice was rough from sleep, but her eyes, though hooded, were alert. “You don't leave for several hours. Sleep. You will need it.”

It was a command the red head desperately wanted to follow, but her memories turned into nightmares made her jumpy and energized.

“Can't,” she replied simply, pushing off body parts so she could stand. Pherah watched a shoulder roll in a shrug before her leader rolled over and feigned sleep. Shokrakar’s loud breathing broken by light snores a tell to Pherah’s trained ears, especially since her sometimes lover didn't normally snore. Pherah shook her head with a smile, pulling on pants and a lightweight shirt.

She was leaving for the Temple of Sacred Ashes later to guard the Chantry's Revered Mother. It sounded like a clear cut job, so long as the mages and templars didn't try anything.

Nothing was ever clear cut where those two factions were concerned.

The mages or templars, or both, would try something and she would be there to put a stop to it. Somehow. It was what she was good at, what had allowed her to rise quickly through the ranks of Valo-Kas and become the most sought after mercenary for the toughest, most important jobs.

For now: there was waiting for dawn, and watching the sunrise. She enjoyed this time the most, the quiet just before the birds awakened, the stillness that seemed to envelope the world in the calm before the explosion of light and sound that heralded the start of the day. Pherah climbed the tallest building, finding handholds in the wood, stone and mortar, familiar and routine for her in the pre-dawn dim light. She positioned herself on the roof, careful not to crack the wooden shingles, her steps light and quick despite her larger than human size. She paused near a protected window's eave pulling out a slightly withered apple and heavy pouch full of water, the last of a stash she left here, hidden from the animals, for her personal consumption on mornings like this.

It had been awhile since she had seen her mother since her age prevented traveling with the rest of the company now. She should make the trip to see her after this job. Her mother would enjoy that and Shokrakar wouldn't mind losing her best merc for a short time. Too much.

“Mother,” she snorted out loud before taking a draught of the water skin. A woman not truly her mother, and yet…kindness and love she had never known before or since. They had shared a strong bond before her magic manifested, that bond is what caused her to save Pherah from her life as a Saarebas and the misery that had been her new role in the Qun, ripped away from her studies as a priest. She had looked forward to her role: caring for and teaching children until the day her required weapons training took a turn for the worst. She lost a close friend and her role in one tragic day.

Pherah shook her head again, her mind was always foggy, confused after the nightmares from living under the Qun. While many in her band were a mix of Vashoth and honorable Tal-Vashoth, she and her mother hid the fact that they were in fact both Tal-Vashoth.  _ Deserters. _ Tal-Vashoth mages weren’t trusted easily, even outside the Qun. Many suspected, feared, they were demons off their chains, escaped with the express purpose of creating havoc in their wake.

Pherah took a bite of the apple, her teeth tearing through the crimson skin, sweet juice and mealy flesh filling her mouth. The mage closed her eyes, trying desperately to clear her rapid thoughts from the nightmares. She could still remember waking up in a cold sweat shortly after their escape, her Tama, mother, standing near her ready to offer comfort, but staying clear because her magic could strike out wildly when she was terrified. It had been many years and lots of training before she had learned the proper control of her fear, and it was her saving grace that she no longer lashed out at others when she awoke on the rare occasion from these terrors of her past.

The qunari snorted a laugh imagining what Shokrakar would have done if she had in fact been shocked awake instead of disturbed slightly with a moving bed partner. Pherah seriously doubted she would ever be asked to return to the merc leader’s bed if that had been the case.

The sun began to tinge the morning sky, Pherah played with her hair, hoping today the sky might match the color of her tresses like they did when she lived in Qunadar. Blue so deep it looked almost black lightened to pale pink then yellow before finally settling on the pale blue of early morning. The flame haired qunari sighed, her hair was an oddity even among her people, and she was often self-conscious about it to the point where she often thought of darkening it but had never been brave enough to make that change.  _ Yet. _ At least that's what she kept telling herself.

Pherah finished the flesh of the apple before pulling it apart to tuck the seeds into a packet she would bring home to her mother. Her mother liked to keep a garden and the village children helped her maintain it. Maybe between shifts at the Temple, she could sneak away to the library and find some information on apple trees. The temple was rumored to have an expansive library.

“Who am _ I _ kidding?” Pherah grumbled out loud to herself, looping the strap of the water skin over her arm and head before climbing down from her perch. She probably wouldn't get to the library, she would be too busy picking up watch shifts, making sure her people didn't drink too much, sleep too late or miss their assigned shifts.

She pushed off the building, falling the last several feet, enjoying the thrill that rushed through her veins even after her toes touched down. Shokrakar had always accused her of being a thrill seeker, bordering on dangerously putting her life at risk but the jobs got done and they all got paid. In the end that was the only thing that truly mattered. Pherah couldn’t help but relish everyday she was free of her chains and the Qun, and she refused to change the way she celebrated that freedom.

The mage made her way to the sparring grounds to get in some practice before the heat of the day. Though this area could never rival the heat of Par Vollen, over the years she had grown used to the cooler air and now found the day warmer than she would wish.

_ Maybe some practice will help me clear my thoughts.  _ Pherah hoped as she picked up a quarterstaff with weighted, padded ends to mimic the feel of a mage’s staff. The wood felt familiar to her palms as her fingers clutched the smooth wood before beginning to warm up. The qunari mage began the process of stretching and holding poses needed for her spell casting, only once a light sheen of perspiration popped across her forehead did she begin letting out the lightning always simmering at her fingertips. She knew how to wield the other elements as well, but her training as a Saarebas had given her a greater aptitude for the lightning favored amongst the Sarabas chained by the Qun.

After Pherah finished practice, the rest of the morning passed quickly while she washed and then finished with the last minute preparations to leave for Haven. After a quick lunch, she led her band from the tiny hamlet, heading out for Haven and beyond to the Temple. The trip should only take a few hours, so they would arrive at their destination just before dinner, giving the Valo-Kas a chance to pitch their tents and work out a watch rotation before the morning’s job began. 

The sun shone down on Pherah’s coppery skin, the most humanoid looking of all the qunari compared to the other shades of grey in her mercenary band. With a final parting wave to Shokrakar and Taarlok who would stay behind with their leader while they worked out some future contracts, the Vashoth set her sights on the road ahead, her yellow-green eyes occasionally scanning the forest and other surroundings for possible ambush as the wagon trundled along the road.

A/N: For any that are interested in the mod that spawned this mess... I mean piece, I totally mean piece. Here's the link: [Scars of the Saarebas](https://www.nexusmods.com/dragonageinquisition/mods/718)


	2. Chapter 2

Pherah struggled to open her eyes, everything _ached_ , including her eyelids. She felt as if she had been blasted by powerful magicks, her own reserves depleted to the point of intense exhaustion that threatened to pull her into a deep, dreamless but recuperative sleep even as she struggled to move. The Tal-Vashoth finally managed to pry her tired, grainy eyes open and her forehead scrunched in confusion when she found the air above her swirled with yellow, green, and some kind of darkness despite holding an eerie sort of light.

_Where am I?_ The Tal-Vashoth struggled to stand as her joints protested the movement. _How did I get here?_

The last thing she remembered was setting out for the temple, the wagon trundling along with the other members of the Valo-Kas. But this...wasteland didn’t look like snow covered peaks the Valo-Kas reports described for the tranquil backdrop surrounding the Temple, and her fellow members were nowhere in sight. Craggy black stones jutted out around her, and rough hewn steps rose steeply at her back. Everything pulsed with jagged green light, swirling and twisting and making Pherah’s stomach heave. Swallowing down bile threatening to rise, the mage found her footing, just barely. The ground was surprisingly stable beneath her despite the vertigo the ever-shifting air created. Pherah took stock of her injuries, suddenly realizing she was without her staff and she glanced around for the weapon, hoping it might have skittered off nearby when she arrived at this...place. 

A high pitched shriek pierced the silence around her, the Tal-Vashoth reached behind her for the dagger still in its scabbard at her back. Looking for the source of the sound, her palm wrapped around the leather wrapped hilt. From the gloom emerged her Arvaarad. The face that still haunted her nightmares standing before her. His eyes seemed to glow with an unnatural light, and darkness dripped from his body, shifting and obscuring his legs. In one hand her Arvaarad clutched a control rod, and in the other… a Saarebas collar and mask. 

“ _No_ ,” Pherah whimpered out loud, closing her eyes for the briefest moment before popping them open again.

He was still there.

_How has he found me? Is he the reason for my memory loss?_

A wicked smile stretched across the qunari’s face until it pulled too far contorting the grey skin and revealing row upon row of jagged teeth dripping with blood and darkness before widening and letting loose another soul piercing shriek that cut through the silence again. Pherah shook as another Arvaarad appeared next to the first, seeming to answer the calling shriek. Then another. And another. The mage quaked, barely keeping her knees from buckling, as dozens of possible captors appeared from the shadows. All holding collars and rods.

Puny weapon forgotten, Pherah bolted for the steep stairs and the chase was on. Her long legs scrambled and ate up the jagged stairs and she could hear the dozens of scrambling feet behind her. Slipping and sliding with hands and feet even as she tried her best to keep going ever up and up, and up. The mage glanced back, her fear making her do stupid things but she desperately wanted to calculate how much time she had before they caught her. Chained her. Again.

_Not enough time._

Pherah turned back to the stairs and her attention was snagged by a golden light glowing faintly at the top of the steep climb. Hope fluttered in the mage’s chest, and she instinctively knew if she could reach that light she would be safe. Renewed determination lit a fire in the red head’s heart and she climbed ever faster, eating through the distance even with the sound of her pursuers scrambling behind her. Loose gravel caused her to slip just as she reached out for the light. A human woman, blazing brightly against the green darkness.

Warm fingers wrapped around her wrist and hope blazed through Pherah’s chest. Green magic flared against the golden woman and the Tal-Vashoth collapsed on cold, grey stone.

_Safe._

She was safe, and despite the shadowy figures she could barely make out, Pherah collapsed in exhaustion. Sleep pulling her under even with the possible danger that might be surrounding her now.

Then all was darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter, but it's an important one, and I'm already working on the next so hopefully I will have that to you soon. Please let me know what you think. :-)


	3. Chapter 3

_ So tired. _ Pherah shifted, itchy and being persistently poked by something finding gaps in her leather armor and cloth underclothes. Finding no reprieve, she shifted again and turned her head sideways until her horns stopped her. Her eyes opened slowly to find a dimly lit grey stone wall, and she turned her head further to find she was sprawled out on a rough cloth mat. The mat barely cushioned by a thin bed of straw, the source of poking and scratching. The wall drew her attention again as it was dimly lit by telltale orange firelight. She turned her head in the other direction to find torches, amazed she felt no pain unlike the last time she woke in a strange place.

"She's awake," the Tal-Vashoth heard whispered in the shadows before figures emerged from them. Three people advanced in Pherah's direction and she quickly realized she was separated from them by bars.

_ Viddithari. _ They had to be. The last thing she remembered was running from Arvaarad. He must have caught her but why then was she in a cell.  _ He doesn't need to imprison me behind bars when he has the rod. _

Her hands flew to her neck but finding a lack of collar Pherah felt relief soar through her veins before dying at the sight of the still advancing shadows. The red head scrambled to her knees, fear causing her blood to pound in her ears drowning out any other sounds her captors may have made. She was struck by an invisible force and the lightning that had been crackling at her fingertips died and the mage barely kept from tumbling over with the loss. Pherah checked for her dagger, but found even that paltry comfort stripped from her.

She was defenseless. 

And the figures were still advancing.

She scrambled into the corner, her back protected by the cold stonework as she watched them open the cage. One figure in templar armor, the symbol blazed for brief moments in the flickering torchlight, while the other two had helmets that bore a hairy eyeball stamped into the metal above their foreheads.

It was the templar who kept most of her attention: he held a set of cuffs.

"No!" Pherah barked out in a rough voice, shifting to attack the trio, but her movements were clunky, awkward, easily deflected, and so unlike her normally smooth fighting.

The two humans wearing hairy eyeball helmets easily subdued Pherah before the templar shackled her. The cuffs laced with something suppressing her magic even further. The mage glared at the trio, finding nothing but hatred and anger glared back in return.

The Tal-Vashoth was forced from her cell and made to kneel in the middle of the space. Surrounded by even more cells, and nothing but darkness and flickering light leading down the hallway. One of her guards left down the hall muttering something about "the Seeker." Pherah wisely held her tongue, not wanting to give away anything and hoping to hear something either from her captors or from beyond the dungeon she was trapped in, while wondering if Seeker was some role in the Qun she had never heard of before.

Her stomach had other ideas about remaining quiet. It growled loudly in discomfort, echoing against the stones in the hollow space. Pherah might have even laughed under different circumstances, but it seemed wise to not antagonize her captors with such gaiety. 

"Here," the templar groused begrudgingly and a chunk of bread was tossed at the ground close to her knees.

_ At least they don’t starve their prisoners, whoever “they” are.  _

Pherah grabbed at the hunk of bread eagerly, unsure how long ago it had been since her last meal, the cuffs separating her hands making it slightly awkward to grab and even eat. She sniffed at the food, hoping it wasn't poisoned and her captors didn't intend to kill her. When all she could smell was the yeasty flour that made up bread, she tore into it greedily uncaring of the dirt that surely marred parts of its surface. It was stale, as if a day or more old, but it was not moldy and for that Pherah was grateful. The other of her guards stepped away from the shadows before tossing a skin in her direction. The liquid filled package slapped against the stones before skittering across them in Pherah's general direction. The Vashoth glanced up in surprise before moving her knee to keep the skin from sailing passed. She stopped eating long enough to pick up the shifting container, awkwardly thumbing the cork free with a single hand before she sniffed at this container as well. Outside the smell of well maintained leather, the mage smelled nothing and would have thought nothing inside if not for the way the contents sloshed and shifted. Placing her thumb over the opening, the Vashoth tipped the skin until clear liquid cascaded passed her blocking digit, glinting in the flickering torchlight before slapping against the grey stone. She heard a quiet grumble of approval from the templar’s last known location but Pherah stilled any reaction before popping her damp thumb in her mouth. Tasting nothing either, the captive mage drank deeply from the skin, the water felt wondrous on her parched throat as she drank her fill.

Pherah continued to eat and drink, switching back and forth between her separated hands until the bread was gone and the skin drained. The mage awkwardly tossed the floppy skin back to the hairy eyeball guard, the leather falling short of the guard person's feet, earning a single shoulder shrug from their captive as the guard had to move and stoop to retrieve the item.

Stomach now mollified into silence, the captive mage glanced about, unaware of her own hand flexing and unfurling from a fist caused by a persistent itching sensation. Pherah kept the expression from her face when she realized that she hadn’t stood a chance of escaping from her known three guards, more materialized from the darkness around her, weapons drawn in preparation to attack and more than one contenance sporting a sneer of anger or distaste.

Averting her gaze, the red head glanced down, her attention on the stones near her knees. Now all the gazes, the glaring eyes, felt like a tangible force boring into and under her coppery skin but Pherah was distracted when she noticed a faint green light that tickled at her memory pulsing from her left fist, even as it opened and closed. She turned her palm upwards, the itch growing stronger with her unease and curiosity. A slash marred the middle of her hand, one she didn’t remember having before the time blanks. As she stared at the cut, flashes broke into her memory, drawing her in.

_ Sickly sunshine beating down on her and the buzz of angry voices around her. Wood beneath her and the unmistakable sound of wheels striking cobblestone, making the cart wobble as if it was going to break at any moment. _

_ An elf, his bare head glinting in the torchlight, as he crouched over her. Hands aglow with blue-green healing light and he seemed surprised to see her awake. A human woman with short, dark hair standing behind him, a scar on her cheek and a frown twisting her lips. _

_ A blonde human with an impossibly bushy mantle covering his wide shoulders conversing with the same elf from before in hushed tones. _

_ A woman made of golden light reaching out for her. _

Green magic flared with the last memory, making Pherah cry out in surprise and pain, pulling her from the quick snippets. Somewhere she heard a wooden door slam open as it struck against stone and heavy feet echoing from the hallway in front of her. Her heartbeat ramped up as she found herself wondering what in the void was happening.

The door to the hall opened with a bang, casting more light into the dungeon and Pherah almost sighed at the sight of the dark-haired woman from her memory stepping into the light, followed quickly by another human woman with a hood obscuring her face. Thankful neither were Qunari, but the angry twist of the dark-haired woman’s mouth kept Pherah from making a noise and there was always the chance she was one of the Viddathari.

The woman in the hood stopped moving, still obscured by the light from the hall, while the other stalked around Pherah. The Vashoth tracked the human, her head turning, ready to shift if the human attacked her from behind. She may have been a mage, but she had been trained to fight long before her magic had manifested and she maintained her combat abilities even now. Pherah felt hot breath waft across her skin as the woman leaned closer.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now,” her accent was thick as she spat the words of anger in Pherah’s ear. If the mage had to guess from her travels the woman hailed from Nevarra. “The conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you.”

Shock froze Pherah, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth in growing horror. She couldn’t even remember how many would have been invited to the conclave, but that also meant her charge was dead. The Revered Mother whom she had been hired to protect was no more. The other members of the Valo-Kas. The templars, the mages. All. Gone. 

_ Do they blame me? _

“Explain this.” The Nevarran demanded, the hairy eyeball worked in leather on her armor winking in the flickering orange light, as she grabbed Pherah’s hand, the magic pulsing green in reply to another’s touch and sending agony through the mage’s arm.

“I can’t!” The words were rough, and ripped from the Vashoth’s mouth, while she tried desperately sorting through her muddled memories.

“What do you mean you  _ can’t? _ ” The raven-haired human demanded, anguish making her words thick and harder to understand, while the hooded figure began to move about as well giving the captive even more people to try to focus on and watch.

“I don’t know what that is, or how it got there,” it was the truth as far as the mage knew it. Everything coming out of the Nevarran woman's mouth  _ was _ a surprise and she never would have killed her contractual obligation, at least not one she was assigned to safeguard, or her fellow mercenaries. There were some things you just didn’t  _ do,  _ especially if you expected to stay in the business long _. _

“You’re lying!” The Nevarran rushed at Pherah and grabbed at her leather coat as if trying to dig the truth from her with her heated gaze alone as brown eyes clashed with yellow-green. A glove hand released her coat, pulling back as the dark haired woman made a fist. Pherah only watched, preparing for the impending strike. She had lived through worse than a beating from a human to loosen her tongue.

“Cassandra, we need her,” the hooded figure intercepted on Pherah’s behalf, and pushed back the Navarran woman, surprising the still kneeling Vashoth. The mage had been so focused on the greater threat of the dark haired woman, that she had lost track of the quiet steps of the hooded one, obviously Orlesian from her soft tones, though perhaps removed from the area for a time.

“What happens now?” Pherah shot out, her mouth creating trouble before her brain caught up to the fact but somehow she just  _ knew  _ she wasn’t the reason the conclave was ruined. She  _ knew _ she hadn’t killed the Divine, even if she couldn’t remember the exact details. She also hated these shackles, they made her skin crawl in a way she hadn’t felt since her Tama, her mother, had set her free from her chains and role.

The Orlesian woman turned to regard Pherah, her eyes dark and assessing in the flickering light while Cassandra stood close to the door, anger twisting her lips into a frown, and her hands in fists at her sides. The mage had the fleeting feeling the dark haired woman lost someone at the conclave, someone she had cared about, it was the only thing that would make so much rage entwined with sorrow make sense.

“Do you remember what happened?” The human redhead asked, her hair looking orange in the torchlight. “How this began?”

“I remember setting out for the temple with the other members of the Valo-Kas, my mercenary band. We had been staying at another village a few hours journey from Haven. And then I woke up in pain. And the place was strange, all black and green and ever shifting, like nothing I had ever seen. I don’t remember how I got there, or even where it was, but I remember  _ hurting _ when I woke up. I tried to find my weapon but...” Pherah shuddered as her Arvaarad’s face appeared in her mind, twisted and filled with darkness like it had when she had seen it in that place of green skies and black, jutting stone. The captive mage tracked the Orlesian as she walked slowly around her. The Vashoth couldn’t help but wonder why she was saying so much, she knew how to maintain silence in an interrogation, but the possible threat of death when she was innocent kept her talking, lying even if need be. Pherah knew what had been chasing her, but the lie slipped out easily, disguised in the distress of her voice. “ _ Things  _ began chasing me, and then… I saw a woman?”

“A woman?” The hooded woman couldn’t keep the surprise from the soft question as she stopped in front of the kneeling Tal-Vashoth.

“She reached out for me, and I reached for her, but then…” Pherah sighed, the warmth of her touch on the same hand as the mark was still a phantom caress of warmth despite the itch from the slash on her palm.

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana,” Casssandra stepped forward, her earlier anger no longer present in her voice. “I will take her to the rift.”

The dark haired woman crouched in front of Pherah, and began removing the cuffs before binding her wrists together with rope. The Tal-Vashoth ducked her head, trying to garner the human’s attention.

“What  _ did _ happen?” Pherah asked gently since she was still curious about details and had no memory between setting out for the Temple and waking up in her own personal nightmare.

“It would be better to show you,” Cassandra sighed as she helped the mage stand, sorrow filling the human’s words again, but it seemed more profound and it wasn’t directed at Pherah anymore.

Cassandra led Pherah down the stone hallway, and the tall Tal-Vashoth had to duck passed the braziers suspended from the ceiling and lighting the hallway.  _ Definitely a building for humans _ , Pherah thought cheekily, smirking slightly as she ducked through a doorway afraid of catching her horns on the masonry. What surprised her most was that instead of emerging from the staircase into some lord’s house, they were now in the central worship area of a chantry. Pherah did a double take in surprise, and had to wonder if this had always been an Andrastian chantry to have dungeons in the basements, it would be the first of its kind if so.

The chantry was quiet, there were no mothers or sisters present to sing the chant. Statuary of Andraste were tucked in every corner, lit candles amassed on the floor in front of each statue giving the whole building a soft glow. It might have even been peaceful if the quiet didn’t seem so oppressive without mourners and the ever present chant that filled most of these buildings of worship. As Cassandra led her prisoner to the closed doors, Pherah wondered where everyone was or had they all been caught in the destruction of the conclave.

Either way, her life was about to change and she wasn’t sure whether it would be for the good or bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! More soon!
> 
> As always, please let me know what you think.


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